


Hallowed Halls

by Slumber



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor promised Amelia an adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallowed Halls

There is something strange going on at Hogwarts.  
  
Minerva cannot quite put her finger on it, cannot quite say what it is that unsettles her nerves  _just so_ , but she can feel it in the air, in the quiet rustling of the leaves and the whisper of the winds. It is in the echo of her boots clack-clacking against the halls, the way Hogwarts seems so  _hallowed_ , now, so different, somehow.  
  
So dangerous.  
  
Minerva wonders if these are just the jitters of her first year as Headmistress, if perhaps the end of the war was just something that added to the solemnity that cloaks the castle grounds these days.  
  
She's being silly, she knows. She's being irrational. Staid, reliable,  _reasonable_  McGonagall cannot allow herself to be swept away by something as flimsy as a  _hunch_.  
  
What Minerva does not know is that she has every reason to worry.  
  
For this is the year that Amelia Pond came to Hogwarts.  
  
*  
  
"Hogwarts is  _boring_ ," Amelia complains, hidden behind the great big draperies in the Great Hall. "Why did you take me here  _after_  Harry Potter left? I wanted to meet him!"  
  
"Beggars can't be choosers, and anyway, I was only off by this much," The Doctor tells her, pinching his fingers. He squints and widens the distance between thumb and index finger. "Alright, maybe I wanted us to arrive seven years earlier-- I've always liked the second book, anyway."  
  
"Do I have to stay here for the entire school year?" Amelia asks, making a face. "They're really making me do my  _homework_."  
  
"Well, yes, of course you need to stay the entire year," he says with a frown, mumbling in the way he usually does when accosted with questions like that. "Too late to back out now, the Sorting is binding, you know, and too many people will remember you, didn't you read your books?"  
  
Amelia sighs. "When you said you'd take me anywhere I wanted--"  
  
"Don't complain, Amelia Pond, I promised I'd take you on an adventure, didn't I?"  
  
"I got Sorted into  _Hufflepuff_!"  
  
"You  _are_  the girl who waited," he points out, "and there's nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs. Jolly fellows, Hufflepuffs. Happy fellows. Patient and kind and protective--why, you're the  _perfect_  badger!"  
  
"Yes, but--"  
  
He holds up a finger. "Shh," he says, shushing her. His ears perk, his hearts start thumping twice the usual, and his skin prickles. "Do you hear that?" he asks her.  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"That."  
  
"I don't hear anything."  
  
"Exactly, Amelia Pond, you hear  _nothing_ ," he says. "School full of thousands of students, busy students, bustling students, right in the middle of the schoolyear, at daytime, and you hear  _nothing_?"  
  
Amelia cocks her head to the side. "So?"  
  
"So!" he declares, face breaking out into a wide grin. "There's something  _wrong_!"   
  
Amelia raises an eyebrow at him-- he thinks it must be something she'd practiced at such a young age, Amy used to give him that look a lot too-- but he has no time to explain. "Stay here," he tells her. "I'll make sure it's safe before we proceed!"  
  
"But you promised!" she calls out after him, but it is too late.  
  
The Doctor has already gone off to investigate.  
  
*  
  
The hiring pool wasn't the best that year, truth be told. The candidates weren't the most promising. Minerva had hoped for the best but unfortunately, the best had only been--  
  
"Excuse me, Professor Smith, but what are you doing?" Minerva asks, eyebrows knitting in a frown when she comes across the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Albus had confided in her his theory that once Voldemort was gone, so would the curse on the DADA position, but it is only three weeks into the new term and Minerva has little hope that Albus' theory would ever come to fruition.  
  
"Me? No, nothing, I was doing nothing-- fine day at Hogwarts, isn't it, Headmistress?" Professor Smith asks, flashing her with a wide smile.   
  
Minerva has had too many dealings with wizards like him, though. She sensed it in his demeanor, the mischief and the up-to-something-ness that came off some students. She does not miss the way he hides his hands behind his back, the way his smile is just this side of cheeky. "What are you holding?" she asks him.  
  
"What am I holding? I'm holding nothing. There's nothing behind my back at all," he lies, a little too smoothly for her to miss. But he raises both hands up to show her and she frowns at the little-- what  _is_ that? A pen?-- blue item he holds in one hand. It emits a strange sound, a high-pitched sound that reminds her of nails down a chalkboard.  
  
"What  _is_  that?"  
  
"Oh, it's nothing, just a sonic screwdriver, but don't worry, it's not really working here-- too much magic in the air, you see, I didn't think about that, actually-- clever, but  _very_  unfortunate, I'll have to find a way to make this work, but I suppose that was why the TARDIS failed to land in the right time to begin with anyway..."  
  
He is already muttering to himself, ignoring Minerva completely. The last time she encountered a professor as absentminded and inclined to muttering was the year Quirrell returned from his sabbatical. At least this one does not have a turban. Minerva only gives him a severe look-- ignored, obviously-- before she walks away. She'll have to keep an eye on that one, she thinks to herself.  
  
"Minerva?" he pipes up suddenly.  
  
"That's Headmistress to you, Professor Smith."  
  
"Headmistress, yes, sorry, where are my manners? Headmistress?"   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Where are the students?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she asks with a frown. "Which students?"  
  
"Exactly. Where are they?"  
  
"Professor Smith, I'm not following--"  
  
"Eleven to seventeen years of age, four houses, little colored ties and robes and the largest majority of inhabitants this school has?" Professor Smith asks. "Where are they?"  
  
She blinks. "Well, that depends on which ones you mean. Some of them are in their common rooms, or the Great Hall, or the library, I'm assuming--"  
  
"Assuming, you say?" Professor Smith looks at her, keen all of a sudden. Sharp. She wonders, just how absentminded is he really? "But where are they right. This. Moment?"  
  
Minerva frowns. "What are you asking, Professor Smith?" she asks. There's something she's trying to remember, something niggling at the back of her head, at the tip of her hand, just beyond her reach.  
  
Professor Smith steps closer, and when he speaks she has trouble wrapping her mind around his words. "I'm saying, Headmistress, that I go into my classroom and it is filled with students. I'm saying that I teach fourteen batches of students a week-- each class filled with two houses from a year-- and every week I end each lesson perfectly content. I'm saying that at dinner the Hall is filled with four long tables full of Hogwarts students, talking and laughing amongst each other. But then you know what's strange, Headmistress?"  
  
"What is?"  
  
"That when I return to my quarters and when I walk down these halls, that in the moments between classes, that in the pockets of time between meals, I have no idea where the students go. Is it just me, Headmistress?"  
  
"No, I--"  
  
"Where are they, Minerva? Where do the students go when we're not looking?"  
  
Minerva frowns. "I don't-- I don't know," she says.  
  
" _Exactly._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in 30min for the [HiH Writers Block](http://hh-writersblock.livejournal.com/) community. Edited to add sorting information.


End file.
